


Loose Ends

by toluidineblue



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-19
Updated: 2017-12-19
Packaged: 2019-02-17 01:06:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13065939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/toluidineblue/pseuds/toluidineblue
Summary: “You were a fool to come here.”





	Loose Ends

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



Route 66 is a fucking deathtrap. Between weather modification tech and El Niño really upping up the ante, Gabriel reckons heatstroke’s a bigger enemy than bandits. Overwatch’s patented vapour harvesting tech doesn’t do a thing when there’s no goddamned vapour to harvest. How’s that for field testing, science division?

_Overwatch_ also doesn’t concern itself with gangs - they have bigger fish to fry, Morrison says, and he’s inclined to agree. Jack can’t wrap his pretty little head around why humans fight each other. He forgets that they’ve been doing this ever since the dawn of man, and that Omnics are just extremely gifted toddlers in the war department.

As it is, they have maybe two days of supplies left to stretch them the three-day trek back to the pickup point. They’ve found fuckall so far, spending the days picking off any gangs that are stupid enough to engage.

The sun is at its peak when they finally make it to the diner, scorching hot. Beckett does a preliminary scan, rolling his eyes when Gabriel asks for a detailed sweep. As it is, the shade is a welcome reprieve from the heat, and there’s a few dusty canisters of water in the workshop out back.

“Here to take away your toys.” Gabriel enters, glancing back to make sure Beckett and Leigh are doing their jobs. Leigh’s found himself a nice little sniper’s nest up top, and Beckett’s busy with his scanner. This place doesn’t look like it’s been touched in years.

There’s a spanking new weapons shipment behind the counter, lacking the thick layer of dust and sand that’s settled across everything else here. Just like Lindholm said.

There’s enough heat packed into that crate to give Deadlock the upper hand over the smaller pandillas around here. Infighting’s fine, but dominance over the entire area’ll turn Deadlock into a _problem._ Gabriel’s here to fix shit before it happens so Overwatch can keep its hands squeaky clean.

“Who’s there?”

Sounds like a kid.

Gabriel freezes. Beckett turns off his scanner with a low, dying beep. There’s a noise from upstairs, a scuffle, and then he hears Leigh curse. There’s the curious sound of marbles bouncing off concrete, and then a flash of blinding light.

His head hurts. Beckett’s stunned, swaying in the entrance way, scanner dropped onto the ground.

_Shitshitshit._

If this is an ambush, then they’ve been caught woefully unprepared. Gabriel’s on his feet in a matter of seconds, slapping a charge onto the weapons crate.

It’ll go off unless he deactivates it, which means the mission’s complete whether they’re dead or not.

Leigh’s not entirely incompetent, which means the kid must’ve been here when they’d entered the cafe, but that doesn’t justify why the scanners hadn’t picked him up.

For now Gabriel makes his way upstairs, safety off. Kid or not, they can’t risk him sounding off an alarm.

There’s a mess on the second storey, a pile of blankets and strangely, a worn sheet of reflective thermal foil. Fooled the scanners in this heat. The knot in his chest unravels slightly - it’s an individual they’ve got to deal with, not a coordinated ambush.

“Beckett, cut off communications. Get a signal blocker, anything, we’re sitting ducks here.”

Flashbang should have worn off by now. He finds Leigh on the roof, one arm dangling uselessly by his side and the other clutching it.

“Back off, mister.” Kid’s got a gun. A piece of shit revolver, but the hand that holds it doesn’t shake in the slightest.

He’s young. Lanky, a sand coloured serape draped over his shoulders, doing nothing to disguise his lack of nutrition. There’s a goddamn cowboy hat on his head, dark strands of hair obscuring a young face. He’s sixteen, seventeen at most, frighteningly young even for these parts.

Up here, they’re still at risk of being spotted, even if the kid doesn’t radio for help.

“You’re very polite for someone who just shot my friend.” Gabriel says conversationally. Leigh’s eyes bulge, incredulous. “You gonna let him go?”

He’ll deal with the fact that Leigh didn’t see the kid on the way up when they’re back on base.

“Depends.”

An answer. Good. The longer he spends stalling, the better.

“You Deadlock? Didn’t know they were recruiting so young.” Gabriel can only hope he’s from one of the smaller gangs, someone who chanced upon a Deadlock shipment-

Wishful thinking, really. He’s offended the boy, and the revolver’s trained on him now.

“I’m not _young_.”

Gabriel has to fight the urge to laugh. But he nods, watching Leigh inch away, ever closer to his rifle.

“Yeah, I guess so. I’m just old, then. You’re really going to come at me with that tiny gun?” It has a better range than his shotgun, for sure, but a single bullet isn’t going to stop him unless it’s between the eyes.

It does the trick, narrowing the kid’s focus on him. Gabriel is a big target, meant to draw attention while his men work.

“Aw, did I hurt your feel-“

The kid moves, lightning quick, coming at Gabriel with enough speed to knock a grown man over.

Kid didn’t account for SEP, and Gabriel can’t really blame him. He catches him by the collar, holding him still.

“You look like a smart one.” There’s no humour in his voice now - Gabriel searches the boy, quick and clinical, crushing the old-school walkie talkie in one hand. The look he gets is incredulous. Maybe a bit impressed.

It’s tech that’s long obsolete but still a godsend in this backwater part of America. Kid’s not screaming yet, which is suspicious, until a flashbang goes off right in his face, making his ears ring, vision interrupted by pulses of white.

Kid scrambles, making a beeline for the stairs.

“Charges!” Gabriel yells himself hoarse, unable to hear his own voice, “Whole thing’s rigged to blow-“ his words don’t seem to register.

It’s fucking crazy, and Leigh knows it too, giving him a look as he barrels down the stairs.

They barely make it.

The fireball singes his back, toasting him in his armour, propelling the both of them back onto the roof. Kid’s safe, hyperventilating in his arms. Gabriel tosses him aside, groaning as the SEP serum knits him back together. He doesn’t fight the pain, letting it wash over him in nauseating waves until finally-

Darkness.

* * *

It’s _freezing_ when he comes to. He swallows, grit coating the roof of his mouth all the way to the back of his sore, sore throat.

Gabriel gets up. He shuts down the biotic field Beckett put up for him, squinting into the glow of the fire they’ve gotten going. “Did you call for an extraction?” He asks, receiving grim nods in reply. “I’m injured, and Morrison won’t even send a-“ Gabriel curses under his breath. He knows Overwatch isn’t supposed to be here, that they’ve got limited resources, but he’s so fucking tired of being _expendable_.

“You blew up my cafe.”

Ah, the boy wonder. Now tied up and looking thoroughly sulky.

“No, we blew up a weapons crate. Any idea why it was in your café?” Gabriel shoots back, because he’s too tired to entertain any lip from the kid.

Who he saved. Should’ve just let him-

Gabriel scrubs at his face. They’re not at war any more. He doesn’t need to think like that, to make calls like that, even if they’re Blackwatch. Sometimes it feels like the whole world moved on without them.

He turns away. “How’s Leigh?” The bullet had only grazed him, pushing up the Kevlar of his armour.

“Mfine. Was a goddamn miracle the kid managed to hit me in the first place. This thing doesn’t shoot straight.” Leigh spins the revolver around, the gun looking like a kid’s toy in his large hand.

“Right. Tell you what.” Gabriel raises his voice, just a little. “Kid. What’s your name?” He’s probably better off not knowing, they’re not supposed to take any prisoners. There’s no discernible Overwatch logo on their outfits, either.

“Jesse.”

“Right. I’m going to untie you, and then you’re going to show us the way out of this place.” Gabriel’s sick of the desert. They’re not familiar enough with the terrain to travel by night, even though it makes more sense than trudging through the heat. “I’ll let you go after, and you can have your things back.”

Jesse looks like he’s contemplating it. Gabriel waits two beats before speaking again.

“And enough credits to rebuild your cafe.”

* * *

Fucking outsiders. Think they can just waltz in here and do whatever they want. They fucked up his cafe. Mama’s cafe. The last piece he has of her. Not that it matters in the grand scheme of things.

A quiet voice reminds him that he was using it for Deadlock, and she _hated_ Deadlock. She didn’t understand, or maybe she understood too well, but now she’s gone and he’s gotta make ends meet somehow.

He’s good with a gun. A goddamn prodigy. Too bad it had to be in this backwater town.

Jesse opens his mouth to agree when Reyes - that’s what he heard the other men call him - offers coin. Hell yes.

A little twinge of guilt pulls his gaze to the still smouldering cafe. He’s never managed to move on fully, only in the worst ways, even after all these years.

“Look, I’m sorry about the place-“

Reyes’ tone makes him hurt. He sounds sincere, and Jesse is suddenly furious because of it.

“Don’t need your pity. And I’ll show you out, no sweat. Jus-“

Oh fuck, oh fuck. His eyes are stinging, voice thickening in a way he’s never outgrown.

“Don’t come back here.”

* * *

The weapons shipment was important. Jesse knows there’s no going back to Deadlock after this, no going back to the cafe. He’ll take the money and go, get as far away from here as he can. Make it to the city and try his luck on the streets.

Leigh, the big guy, hands him a gun when they run into trouble. It’s not Deadlock, thank god, because they’ll be baying for his blood right about now. It’s light, almost lighter than Peacekeeper, made out of firm plastic.

Jesse takes two bandits out, quick and clean. They go down convulsing, which surprises him, because they’re definitely using real bullets against Reyes and his team.

He’d used _real bullets_ against Leigh, but he’s pretty nice to him all the same. Or maybe he’s waiting for the right time to break his neck. Fifty-fifty. Jesse likes his odds.

“Keep it.” Reyes waves him off when he tries to return the gun.

“It’s biometrically coded. You couldn’t shoot any of us with it if you tried.” Smaller guy, Beckett, pipes up. Jesse’s never seen that one sleep.

Reyes covers his hand, sticking the barrel right up against himself before squeezing the trigger. Nothing. Jesse can breathe again, dizzy.

“See?”

They don’t need to tell him this. They could have waited for him to try his luck, could have used it to test his loyalty. Jesse feels anger stir up in his belly again, but it only manifests as hurt. He keeps his gaze on his new weapon, running his fingers down the smooth ridges. It’s unmarked, looks brand new. It looks disposable, but not in a bad way. Whoever these guys are, they’re more than what he can deal with right now.

Reyes hands him a warm packet and a plastic spoon. Jesse’s seen rations before, from back when they’d chanced upon an old military stock house up north. “So, you’re military, then?” He blurts out, realising his mistake maybe halfway through the sentence.

He shuts himself up with a spoonful of rice, tasting ketchup and the faintest hint of plastic. His captors exchange looks among themselves – they haven’t talked much, even though they’re clearly familiar with each other. It’s only now Jesse realises that it had been for his benefit.

“We’ll uh, we’ll reach. Tomorrow, noon.” He tries again. Reyes’ shoulders sag, and Jesse wonders if he should try to make a run for it when they settle down for the night. Leigh doesn’t move fast, and he’s sure he can take Beckett down in a fight.   
Maybe the food’s drugged. He’s never seen Reyes eat, even though the other two tuck into their meals readily enough. Maybe he’s half-omnic, or more likely enhanced. Jesse’s heard stories about a man with metal legs, tattered synthetic-skin stretched over the joints. It explains how fast he’d moved, how he’d felt like a damn brick wall during their struggle.

Jesse doesn’t try it. He needs the money. At least it’s what he tells himself when Leigh wanders over later and ties up his wrists for the first time in two nights. “It’s nothing personal.” The man tells him. Jesse resists the urge to curse at him when his stun gun is taken away as well. “Boss’s orders. If you’re not happy, take it up with him.”

He glances over. Past the fire, he sees Beckett, blond head bobbing as he scans the perimeter. Reyes is hunched over his tablet, speaking quietly into an earpiece. Probably arranging transport out of here.

“Y’all just-“ Jesse sighs, nails biting painfully into his palms. “Fucking _fine_.” It comes out watery, and he hates them a little more for the way Leigh pats his head before wandering back to his post.

* * *

The transport shuttle is huge. Jesse’s never seen anything like it, even during the construction of the hypertrain track. Reyes is surprised, too, because they spot it almost half a mile away, armed guards spilling from its interior.

“I was planning to let you go somewhere else.” Reyes unties him. It’s now or never, really. This could be his ticket out of here. He can’t slip away quietly now – the shuttle’s bound to have attracted Deadlock attention. Someone could have spotted him. His headstart is all but gone.

Jesse steels himself. “Take me with you.” His pride hurts. He swallows the beast down, hoping for the best. It’s the same shill he gave Deadlock, and these men have been kinder to him than Deadlock ever was. “I’m a good shot. You’ve seen me. I’m quick and I can learn.”

That’s a no in Reyes’ eyes. He can see it. Maybe he should have tried his luck with the shuttle, snuck on and hid until they landed. Anywhere’s better than this place.

“You can’t just… come here, and do your thing, and go back to your base and forget about it.” Jesse snaps, bordering on hysterical now. Fuck. He’s going about this all wrong, and something in him cracks when he sees Reyes smile.

“Yes, I can. Because it’s my job.” Reyes is fucking terrifying, staring him down. It’s a mixture of stupidity and pride that keeps him from backing down. “What do you think is gonna happen if I take you back, huh? You’re a criminal. You’re Deadlock, harbouring a weapons shipment with enough firepower to bring this whole place down.”   
Jesse swallows, but he doesn’t bend. Doesn’t shrink away. “Don’t leave me here.” It’s a plea, but it comes out as a demand, harsh with desperation. “They don’t have to know. You could tell them that I’m just a local that’s helped you out.” Jesse calls Reyes’ bluff, not missing a beat. “How else are you gonna explain away the money you were going to give me, anyway, if I’m so bad.”

“Or maybe I was planning to get rid of you. Tie up loose ends.” Reyes nods, and suddenly Jesse can’t control his limbs, pain arcing through his nerves. Stun gun. The look in Reye’s eyes is the last thing he sees before everything fades.

* * *

The next time he sees Reyes, he shoots on sight. There’s no pussyfooting around this time. Jesse’s older now – not by a lot – but his aim has improved, feeding off a grudge he’s held on to all this time. Deadlock’s all but dead and gone, but Jesse’s made a name for himself, and he isn’t going to be carted off to jail now that he’s where he wants to be.

Reyes comes at him with a ferocity that still manages to intimidate him. Jesse gets a few good shots in before he stumbles, a boot connecting squarely with his chest. 

He takes the offer. Part of him is glad that he’d made enough of an impression for Reyes to come back in person instead of sending an execution squad, but it’s too little, too late for the kid he was two years ago.

* * *

McCree’s an asset. Gabriel’s spent almost half of his whole damn career babysitting, but Jesse’s far outgrown his expectations. There’s a building, electric _something_ between them that he refuses to acknowledge, and Jesse’s smart enough not to push. 

Jesse’s not exactly quiet about the fact that he left him to rot in 66 for two whole years before coming to get him. Gabriel tries not to think about how his right hand’s still holding on to that grudge. He gets it, really. Jesse had suffered duly for his role in the shipment fiasco.

Things have been hard. He isn’t going to lie about how everything’s going downhill. Morrison was a bad fit for the job but he took it anyway, and it’s driving all of them crazy. Ana, him… Jack’s not the man he used to know, cracking under the pressure of the UN.

Gabriel’s a little softer with Jesse, a little more patient. His men know better than to bring it up. He’s never been in a position that gives him the freedom to regret things, but he can sure as hell make up for it. 

* * *

Jesse tells Gabriel his plans before he goes. He deserves that, at least. Even if this was a long time coming. Blackwatch is on its last legs, and it’s not going to go down without taking Overwatch with it. 

“Don’t leave me.”

  
Jesse quietens, running his hand down Gabe’s scarred back. “Now, where’ve I heard that before?” He asks. There’s no cruelty in his voice. Gabe gave him an out a long time ago, once he’d passed his probation. Said that there was no obligation for him to stay, to carry out Overwatch’s dirty work. 

“I have to go.” He can’t stay. Can’t sit in a castle while it crumbles around him. Gabriel’s plan is madness personified, and he hasn’t ever been the same ever since he let O’Deorain get her hands on him. 

Gabriel doesn’t say anything. “I don’t have a stun gun. And even if I did, it wouldn’t… you said it was biometrically coded or somethin.” Jesse leans in close, pressing his lips to Gabriel’s nape. “You could come with. Just…leave this all behind.”   
The silence he gets is answer enough.

* * *

It’s cold in the bar, and yet he dreams of scorching heat. Jesse wakes up facedown on hard wood, mouth sour and dry. Sombra’s still here, a vision in neon purple. She’s tapping away on her tablet, shoulders tense in a way that makes him ache.   
She slides over a very welcome glass of water. “Thanks, ‘livia.” She hates it when he calls her that, and he smiles over the rim of his cup when she flips him the bird.

He’s paid her a pretty penny for information on Reaper. Talon or not, Sombra’s always been an independent agent. Besides, she seems quite willing to gossip on the specter, comfortable enough in her little plans to cut Talon loose when they stop being useful.

“So you’re sure I won’t be followed?” It’s a risk, trusting her, but he’s not even going to try and talk to Doomfist. Gabriel had gone behind Morrison’s back to recruit him, and Jesse’s all about paying back what he owes.   
That, and he’s missed Gabriel like a limb. Maybe literally, since he had to leave his old arm behind when he left Overwatch - on the account of the tracker embedded in it. Gabriel thought he’d been sneaky, getting it installed during the manufacture of his prosthetic.

“You won’t, loverboy.” Jesse flinches at that, and Sombra laughs, bright and delighted. She’s fucking awful, and he’s tempted, for a moment, to ask her to join Overwatch. They’d probably cramp her style.

* * *

They’re back here. 66 isn’t where he’d expected to find Reaper. It throws him off, even if he’s familiar with the place. It’s do or die – either he leaves with Gabriel in tow or in a body bag. Even that’s optimistic. He’ll be happy enough with an unmarked grave, if it really comes to that.

“I should’ve died here.” His voice echoes down the old bunker. The shipping crates cast shadows down here, every step dissipating into smaller echoes. Jesse knows he isn’t exactly covert. His spurs jangle, for fuck’s sake. “I dressed up all special for you too, Gabe.” 

Jesse closes his eyes at the feeling of metal against his back. Gabriel. Trapped in an endless cycle of death, decay and the life Jesse still loves. He only has a small window to work with, if Angela’s calculations are correct. They’ve been planning this for months, even if he’s missed his old commander for years. 

“You were a fool to come here.” 

“Yeah, guess so. You’ve gotten a lot more dramatic since I left, huh.” There’s no Gabriel in that voice, no matter how hard he’s searching for it. Reaper is a monster, darkness personified, but he’s Jesse’s monster, blinking eyes and all.

“But this is kinda my turf, so… you’re the fool for coming here.” Jesse says, with a brightness he doesn’t feel. “Just us. Two fools in the middle of the desert. We’re only missing Beckett and Leigh.” 

Jesse dives forward and prays that whatever’s left of Gabriel lets him have this. He rolls, coming up with charges primed as he slams the barrel of the stun gun into the side of Reaper’s neck. The spectre writhes, trying to wraith away, only to growl when his nanites fail.

The charges go off with a flash of blinding yellow light, searing his hands as he presses them into Gabriel’s chest, simultaneously burning his flesh and knitting it back together. If this goes wrong, he’ll end up having his good hand fused to a very angry Reaper.  
It takes an eternity for the charges to finish their delivery, dropping from his hands. Jesse’s knees give way, and he joins Reaper on the floor, coughing out smoke. His head hurts. It’s worth it, he tells himself. Worth a try, even if it didn’t work.

“Why?” Gabriel. Jesse crumples, what little strength he had leaving him. Reaper’s mask joins him on the floor, cracking on the tarmac. The hands that lift him up are warm, without a trace of black smoke. It’s worth it. It’s worth it and he fucking did it. He came back for Gabriel.   
Gabriel could be hand delivering him to Talon and he wouldn’t care. _He did it._

“Maybe I just wanted to tie up loose ends.” 


End file.
